Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (crime books to read .txt) 📗

my story. Anyway, first date. It was April, and she showed up at my door with a huge bunch of lilacs from her backyard. I stuck my face in there for a big ol’ sniff, and a bee stung me right here.” She tapped her eyelid. “My eye swelled shut and turned purple. But she was cute and kept apologizing, so we went to the restaurant she picked out. The server waited until my date went to the can, then slipped me the number of a domestic violence hotline.” A smattering of laughter and applause rang out. “Speaking of—donation box is on the bar, folks, or donate online.” She rattled off the shelter’s website, then called up the first storyteller.

Rosie chewed her nails through stories of slobbery kisses, projectile vomiting, unwelcome groping, and alarming allergic reactions. Customers hooted and applauded each presenter. At last, Dawn squinted at her sign up list. “Our last contestant is—looks like Ariana?”

“That’s me.” She raised her hand and, quivering with nerves, climbed onto the stage and took the mic.

Dawn’s forehead rumpled.

“Ariana’s my middle name,” she whispered before facing the crowd, her heart thundering. “Hi, guys. So, I’m gonna break the rules tonight.”

“Naughty girl,” someone yelled.

“I promise it’s for a good cause. Who was here at Christmastime?”

Scattered hoots and applause.

“You remember that mistletoe? Well, I gave in to temptation and kissed the wrong guy. Could not be a worse fit for me.”

“Been there,” a woman shouted. Her tablemates guffawed.

“That’s what I thought at the time, anyway. Because of a bunch of dumb ideas I had about who I am and who he is, I never really gave him a chance, and, well—” She shrugged. “I’m no good with fancy words. I think in pictures, as you can see.” She lifted her sleeves to show her arms, then tugged down her neckline to show her rose bouquet.

Whistles and applause rang out.

“Anyway, I was wrong about this guy. He’s perfect for me, and I want to show him why. Jojo?”

Beaming from ear to ear, the big guy pulled her portfolio case from behind his stool. “Eddie’s gonna shit himself,” he whispered as he handed it over.

Her gaze flicked to the bar. Eddie stood frozen, mouth agape, clutching an empty glass in one hand and a bar towel in the other.

She unlatched the case and pulled out her first drawing.

“What’s that, a turd?” Dawn asked.

“It’s a chocolate salami.”

“Eew!” a woman squealed.

“It’s actually delicious. This guy surprises me all the time with good things I never would’ve known about if I hadn’t kissed him.”

Her next drawing: an open book with a quill pen. “He doesn’t just lurch through life like me, he’s a planner who thinks of every detail. He’s got a list for everything.”

“Sounds boring,” a girl said.

“Not at all.” She glanced at Eddie, whose face had gone neon red. “It’s the reason he gets shit done. I admire that.”

Her next drawing, a skinny superhero, fists on his hips, cape flaring behind him, an E across his chest. “Because he’s brave. And reliable, and honorable, and determined. He really cares about doing the right thing.”

Eyes wide, Eddie set down the glass and clutched the towel to his heart.

She held up a drawing of kissy lips. “He’s an amazing kisser.”

Wolf whistles from the audience.

Next came a heart with a line of birds perched on its swirling tail. Beneath, the word Family in looping script. “He’s sweet and respectful to his family. He makes me want to be a better daughter and sister.”

The crumpled towel now covered Eddie’s mouth. His eyes gleamed.

“That’s a tattoo design, by the way. So is this one.” She held up a white starburst surrounded by rays of yellow, orange, red, and purple fading into blackness and stars.

“What is it?” A girl beside the stage asked.

“A supernova.” She cupped the mic with her free hand and whispered, “ ’Cause, you know, in bed…” Grinning, she spread her fingers to indicate an explosion. “But I shouldn’t tell you that because you’ll try and grab him for yourself.” She glanced at Eddie, who was either laughing or choking behind his towel. “He’s taken.”

He nodded slowly.

Next she held up an eye, its iris reflecting the earth in brilliant blues and greens. “I love the way he looks at me like I’m all the beautiful things in one—an ocean sunset and a soaring eagle and a juicy sex goddess. He’s a great listener too, but who wants a tattoo of an ear?” When the laughter died down, she added, “He takes me seriously, even though I’m not a very serious person. He treats me like my dreams and plans are important.”

“Because they are,” Eddie called, his voice gruff but strong.

The crowd turned as one to the bar. Eddie’s gaze held hers, his chin lifted, his hand over his heart.

Rosie set aside her drawings. “This last one’s not on paper, it’s on me. Wanna see, Eddie?”

The crowd parted as he slowly moved toward the stage, stumbling like a sleepwalker.

She lifted the hem of her skirt above her thigh-high sock to reveal a fresh tattoo, still covered with cling film. The low stage put the design right at his eye level.

“What is it?” Lana called.

Eddie gently gripped her thigh, his thumb stroking her skin beside the medical tape. “It’s a rose,” he croaked. “With writing around it.”

Rosie glided her fingers into his soft curls. “The word love in Greek and Cantonese, for my family, and Russian, for yours.” Tears clogged her throat and blurred her vision until all she saw was his beautiful, stunned face gazing up at her. “Because your love made me bloom, Eddie.”

Slowly, his arms circled her. With a shuddering sigh, he buried his face in her stomach.

She folded over and wrapped herself around him. “I love you, Eddie.”

And then she squeaked as her feet left the floor. Eddie lifted her down, raked his fingers into her hair, and kissed her until champagne fizzed in her veins and stars flashed through her closed lids.

“Awww,” someone cooed. “That’s the best love